


You Drew Stars Around My Scars (But Now I'm Bleeding)

by NeedleToTheGroove (melissa7187)



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mental Health Issues, Sheila redemption arc that no one but me asked for, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissa7187/pseuds/NeedleToTheGroove
Summary: After a rough senior year, Beca's just trying to start over at Barden University. She has a past that she doesn't want to share with her new friends and secrets that she can't tell a soul. But then she meets Chloe and everything changes.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 22
Kudos: 81





	1. 000 - Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from "Cardigan" by Taylor Swift.

Beca had always liked living in the attic of the small bungalow she shared with her mother in the suburbs of Seattle. Her best friend Christina had to share a room with her older sister and she had always felt a little superior every time Christina complained about what a bitch Becky was.

It had never occurred to her that maybe having children hadn’t been in her parent’s plans when they had moved the whole way across the country for her father’s first teaching job. They had been fresh out of college in Boston and had tried to find something outside of the city or in a nice suburb, but nothing was working out until they got a call one day from a college buddy about an opening as an adjunct professor at the University of Washington.

The rest had been history.

They had moved into the small one-bedroom house because it had modern tastes and fit into their tight newlywed budget as her mother looked for a job as an accountant. Twenty-two years, one child, and a divorce later the house was still their home. They had reappropriated the attic as a bedroom around the time Beca had turned four and had grown out of the toddler bed they had wedged into the space at the foot of their bed.

She had first filled her room with glow stars on the ceiling and fantasy books strewn on haphazardly hung shelves around the room. She had wished for an invisibility cloak under the dim glow of a flashlight as her parents argued beneath her and constructed a little bed for her ragdoll kitten, Minerva, out of cardboard and old blankets. As she got older, she had replaced the books with records and mixing equipment received from her father to try to win her over as the divorce proceedings got messier.

But now, for the first time in eighteen years, she wished for a little normalcy as her parents argued beneath her in the kitchen. She wished she could be like any other teenager with at least some semblance of privacy so she’d have no idea just how much she was disappointing them. How much they wanted her out of their hair.

How big of a fuck-up she was.

* * *

She knew she was in trouble when her mother had come home from work late that Friday and she could hear her father’s low voice telling her that he had liked what she had done with the place. They had been divorced since she was twelve and he hadn’t returned to the house since moving his final box out. When she turned sixteen, he had gotten a tenure track at Barden University the whole way across the country and had said goodbye to her over waffles, not daring to stop over and invade the space he had signed his rights away to.

But he was back in Seattle, away from his new wife and job, and she knew that she was in deep shit now. Her mother had finally tired of dealing with the _after_ of everything and was shipping her away.

She really didn’t blame her. Half the time she couldn’t bear to deal with herself.

She just didn’t think it would be so hard to hear the truth about what she had become.

* * *

“Warren, I need your help with this. She’s falling apart and I can’t do it on my own any longer. I need you to step up.”

Beca could hear her father stand up from the table, set something down on the surface, and slowly start to pace as the floorboards creaked gently beneath him. They must’ve stopped for coffee at the little café near his old job on the way home from the airport. She couldn’t believe that he had flown the whole way across the country for this.

“It’s a little hard for me to step up, Claire, when I’m hours away. Final grades are due next week – I’m lucky I was able to even get this weekend away.”

“Please don’t guilt trip me about being present in your daughter’s life. I have been raising her for the past six years pretty much on my own, except for the time you came flitting back into her life and almost got her killed!”

 _That_ was too far. Beca wasn’t just going to sit back and let her mother bring that up. Not after everything that had happened and everything that she had lost.

It wasn’t fair.

“Do you really have to go there? I have to think about that every day for the rest of my life and live with that guilt. That whole evening never should have happened, but I can’t change that now. You rubbing it in my face is doing no one any good.”

Beca perched herself at the top of the stairs and looked down into the kitchen, trying hard not to move a muscle to avoid them creaking and her cover being blown. If her parents knew she was watching them they’d never be honest and the long expanses of fake smiles and silent dinners would continue until she did them all a favor and walked herself into oncoming traffic.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…I can’t do this alone anymore. We are losing our daughter.” She took a sip from her iced macchiato and softly said “She’s not sleeping well. I can hear her up there at all hours of the night playing on her laptop or talking to the cat. She’s awake when I go to sleep and when I get up in the morning and when I come home from work. It’s not healthy.”

“Insomnia is a perfectly normal thing. And she may be sleeping when you’re at work. You can’t be here 24 hours a day babysitting her.”

“I know that, but you should see her eyes. She has bags under them and she looks so tired, but every time I ask her if she’s feeling alright, she avoids the question completely.”

“I haven’t seen her yet, but I remember her looking a little pale at Christmas when we Skyped. But maybe it’s a good thing that she’s spending so much time on the computer. She loves making music and if she’s putting her emotions into that I can think of a lot worse alternatives.”

“She’s drinking. And getting high with the neighbor’s son.” Claire gave Warren a moment to digest the news and added “The liquor cabinet was stocked, but I had my suspicions and checked about a week ago. She cleared me out. I’m not replacing it.”

Beca could feel her face burn as she watched her father digest that information and she hated her mother for making a compelling case to him. She wasn’t her father’s biggest fan at the moment and she’d probably never want to talk to him again, but it still hurt to know she had disappointed him so deeply. Part of her would always long to be her dad’s favorite and to make him proud.

“Is it just weed or something stronger?” He seemed to struggle with the question and she could barely hear him as he said “You know it runs in my family.”

“I’ve been keeping track of her pain medication and the anti-depressants and I know that those aren’t being abused, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was going beyond marijuana. Sometimes I look at her and it’s just blank.”

“Are you still taking her to that psychiatrist up at the children’s hospital?”

“Warren, I couldn’t get her out of bed half the time. We tried a few sessions of that but after a while, I couldn’t keep begging her to get dressed and get in the car. And the doctor agreed. She wasn’t offering much to him during the sessions and he had told me that maybe the best thing to do would be to wait until she’s ready to talk.”

“But how long is that going to take?”

“I don’t know! Now do you get why I’m so upset by this?” It was Claire’s turn to stand as she walked towards him, thought better of seeking comfort from her ex, and leaned against the refrigerator. The cold stainless steel seemed to relax her a little as she swiped a hand across her eyes. “She won’t talk to anyone, she refuses to leave the house so a job is out of the question, and when she is sleeping she’s having nightmares. I can hear her crying out up there and I know she’d kill me if I brought it up, but I know she’s been wetting the bed. This is **not** normal.”

“Grief manifests itself in different ways. I know you’re worried, but it’s normal to have nightmares and she’s just a kid. Is it better to send her off to a hospital for a shrink to try to get her to open up or throw on a mattress protector and let her work through this at her own pace?”

She was going to **kill** her mother.

“I think if we sit back and let this play out we’re going to be burying her by winter.”

* * *

She didn’t remember crawling back up the steps but was curled up in her bed when her parents left to go get some dinner. If they had been talking while she was out of it she had no idea. And maybe it was for the best. After hearing her mother’s words everything got too loud and she needed to escape. It was okay when _she_ had those thoughts because she knew her capacity and that it would take much more for her to ever act on them. But her mom was different. For so long they had been **so** close and Beca told her everything. She hated knowing that her mom thought she’d do something drastic.

She tugged the blankets tighter around her body as a text came into her phone from her mom asking her if she wanted them to bring her home some pasta from the Italian place down the street. Beca left her on read as she closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.

She had a feeling that she would need it if her parents needed to leave the house to talk about her.

* * *

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt someone shaking her arm and pulling her out of her dreamless sleep. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkened room and she blinked rapidly when the bedside lamp was switched on. There was no light shining from the skylight above her bed and she knew it had to be after nine, which meant that her parents had either been out for a long time discussing her or had returned but let her sleep. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Beca, we just got back from dinner. Can you come downstairs and talk to us?”

She turned her head slowly and grimaced when she saw her father kneeling next to her bed with his hand on her forearm. It had been months since she had been face-to-face with him and when she had told him that she never wanted to see him again she had thought that maybe her wish would actually come true. Evidently, God hated her.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

A flash of hurt passed across his features and she regretted her harsh tone. She could be so callous sometimes. But she meant the words and didn’t regret saying them. She wanted him nowhere near her.

“I’m sorry”, Warren said while removing his hand from her and backing away slowly. He gave her some space to sit up on her bed and motioned to the stairs as she took off her blankets. “We just got back from dinner and wanted to talk to you before I head back to my hotel. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

He walked towards the steps and Beca ran a hand over her eyes, wiping the sleep from them. Her mother had been right, she hadn’t been sleeping well, and if they would have left her alone she probably would have slept through the night. A night without waking up over and over from the nightmares was a Godsend and she felt the anger start to build as she was forced to do something she did not want to do.

“And if I don’t want to come down?”

She could see her father pause on the steps and grip the handrail tightly as he came up with a response. She hoped that he would just sigh and walk downstairs, admitting defeat to her mom before gathering up his things and driving back to his hotel. She would go back to sleep and work on things tomorrow. She would be better. Or at least try to be what her mom wanted her to be. She just needed him to leave first.

“It’s non-negotiable. You either come down or one of us will come up here and bring you down ourselves. You have five minutes.”

Fuck.

* * *

Beca stared at her shoes as her father sat across from her on the coffee table, seemingly steeling his nerves for this stupid thing. He occasionally played with the wedding ring on his finger and she wondered if he missed not being back in Atlanta. He had made himself a new family, complete with a six-month-old half-brother she had never met, and it had to be better than this. It had to have been his way of moving on.

Her mother finally walked through the archway between the kitchen and living room, clutching a tray of steaming mugs and sporting newly red eyes. She must have been crying and masked it by busying herself with making tea. Beca could see right through her though. Her mother hated tea and wouldn’t meet her eyes when she passed a mug with a garish picture of Garfield on it to her.

She wished that she hadn’t gone through her mother’s alcohol so quickly. She’d definitely need a shot in her tea to make this bearable.

“Beca, your father and I spoke over dinner about how things have gone since the accident. And we know that we’ve been trying to overlook some of your behavior and hope that you would get through it naturally, but at this point, that’s not going to happen without some kind of push.”

“What behavior? I literally don’t speak to you most of the time.”

“I know it’s a coping mechanism for you, but I would really appreciate it if you could try not to be a smart ass for one minute. I am trying to have an adult conversation with you.” Claire narrowed her eyes and sat back a little as Beca flushed and took a sip of her tea while avoiding her mother’s stare. Underneath all of her acting out, she was still a good kid. “I know about the alcohol and the drugs that you do with Jackson. I also know that you’re not sleeping or eating much and barely leave your room. That’s not a high quality of life for you and you deserve better than just letting yourself go like this. And I’m sorry for not reaching out to you before this. It never should have gotten to this point.”

“Mom, you’re overreacting. It’s not like I’m freebasing with him – it’s just pot.”

“Beca, that is not the point. You shouldn’t be doing any-”

“-That’s rich coming from you, dad. You’re not exactly the poster boy for good behavior.” Beca watched as her father visibly stiffened and shifted a little, straightening up. She knew that was a low blow, but he deserved it. She wasn’t going to be lectured by _him_. “Why are you even home? Don’t you have a new family to be father of the year for?”

“Rebecca Mitchell, that is **enough**. I know you have your issues with your father, but attacking him to avoid this conversation is not going to work. We need to figure this out.”

Beca felt stunned. She couldn’t believe that her mother was defending him of all people. He had left them to start a new life across the country. Sometimes the only contact he would have with them in months would be the text he’d send her mom letting her know that the child support had been deposited. He had almost gotten her killed. Her mother was as much of a hypocrite as he was.

“Beca, I understand if you’re angry with me and I don’t blame you if you hate me. I hate me most of the time, too. I’m here because I love you and I care about you and because your mother can’t handle this on her own anymore. Please try to just listen to us and keep an open mind. You have to try to see where we’re coming from on this one.” He took a sip from his mug and played with a loose button on his flannel button-down before looking back up at her. He studied her for a few moments, taking in her angry eyes and the small scar that curved from her left eyebrow down a few inches to her cheek. The plastic surgeon had promised that it would fade over time, but for now, it was an ugly reminder of everything that had happened. “We need to get you the help that you’re in no position to ask for yourself. However, we know you’re 18 now and we can’t force you to do anything. We just want you to consider our plan.”

When Beca only looked down at her lap and didn’t utter a response, Claire rose from her perch on the armchair and sunk onto the couch next to her. She slid her hand across Beca’s lap and intertwined their fingers, relaxing a little when Beca didn’t push her hand away.

“Sweetheart, we’ve tried. We tried group therapy and counseling but you weren’t responsive to them. We let you take the GED even though you were _so_ good at school because we thought that maybe with some independence you would feel empowered to get a job or play some shows. I did not expect that you would stay in your room all day and give up on everything you cared about.” She squeezed Beca’s hand and softly added “You have to admit that this is not working any longer. I worry every day that I’m going to get a call at work saying that someone found you dead somewhere. Or that I’m going to come home and find you…gone. This is killing me.”

Her mom started to cry softly and Beca blinked back her own tears rapidly. She hated to see her mom upset. And it ached somewhere deep in her chest to imagine her mother worrying about being called at her cubicle to be told that her daughter was gone. She had no intention of killing herself. If she stayed alive then she’d be able to keep punishing herself every day.

It was what she deserved.

“Bec, you may not be able to see it now, but you have so much potential. You’re so smart and talented and we love you so much. And we know that you deserve better than this. You can’t possibly be happy living like this. Are you?”

“It’s…”, Beca trailed off for a moment, gathering her thoughts before she said something she’d regret. The last thing she needed was giving them grounds to commit her. “It’s what I deserve. How can I be happy when he’s gone? How can I be the same person knowing that I didn’t do enough to stop it from happening?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Beca.”

“No shit, dad. I think we all know whose fault it was.”

“Beca, that is enough! We all miss Patrick. I know how much he meant to you, but this is not helping.”

“Claire, it’s okay. I don’t disagree with her. I didn’t do enough to stop things from escalating and I think about that every day. And I know that I won’t stop blaming myself until I die.” He reached out to place his hand on Beca’s leg and sniffled a little when she winced and tried to get away from him. She used to adore him when she was a little girl. He had taken her to her first concert and taught her how to ride a bike. They had played dolls for hours. And now she hated him.

The best part of it was he didn’t blame her.

“I need a break, Beca. I am putting myself under too much stress worrying about this constantly and Dr. Altman said that I’m going to give myself a stroke if I have another year of this. We discussed it over dinner and we’re giving you two choices. We won’t decide for you, but I hope you at least consider what we’re going to offer you. Go ahead, Warren.”

“I want you to come home with me and attend school at Barden. I don’t expect you to want to live with me so I pulled some strings and was able to get you a single room on campus. My dean knows so much about you from our conversations and agreed to overlook the fact that you didn’t take the SAT and to consider how well you were doing up until you left school. There’s a place for you in the music production program if you want it. I’ve heard that it’s very competitive to get in, so this is a good opportunity for you.”

“And if I don’t want it?”

“If you don’t accept your father’s offer then you’ll need to leave. You can have one suitcase and enough money to get a hotel for a few nights but that’s it. We won’t float you until you decide to find a job because we don’t trust that you won’t drink the money we give you. I won’t help you kill yourself.”

“Mom, you can’t be serious! You’re going to kick me out?”

“Yes, Beca, I’m serious. You have to understand how much I love you. You are my whole world and I love you **so** much. I watched my life pass before my eyes when I got the call that you were in that accident. I drove the whole way to the airport worrying that you would be gone by the time I touched down in Atlanta. After all that, I can’t sit back and lose you all over again.”

“I’ll be better. I’ll go to counseling and I’ll get a job and I’ll stop hanging out with Jackson. Please don’t make me leave.” Her mother refused to meet her eyes as she started to cry and Beca lost it, pulling her knees into her chest as rough sobs shook her whole body. Why couldn’t they just let her go? “I’m begging you. My whole life is here.”

“Baby, this is not a life. It may feel like it to you, but you are killing yourself by giving up on everything. This is an opportunity for you to start over again. Not many people get those chances.”

Beca covered her face with her hands and wept into them, not caring how childish she must look to her parents. She couldn’t believe they were doing this to her. They would rather see her homeless and on the street than letting her just figure her shit out. She just needed time. That’s all she had asked of them when she got out of the hospital.

They had given up on her too soon.

“We’re going to give you some time to think it over. I’m going to head back to my hotel for the night, but I’ll be back tomorrow for lunch and we’ll talk again then.” Beca refused to look up at him as he stood up and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, gripping it firmly before rubbing her quivering back. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but I _want_ you to come home with me. I talked to Sheila about it and she’s 100% on board. We love you.”

When Beca didn’t respond, Claire slowly rose and placed her hand on Warren’s arm, gripping his bicep and guiding him away from her and towards the door. By the time they got to the door she had broken down into angry tears and Warren felt no hesitation when he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. He kissed the top of her head like an old friend and rubbed her back at the sound of Beca rushing past them and stomping up the steps before slamming her bedroom door.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Claire had just taken her reading glasses off and turned off her bedside table when she heard movement out in the hallway. She propped herself up on her elbow and frowned when she heard the clank of the washing machine lid closing and then the steady thrumming of the agitator as it started up.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

Much to her surprise, her bedroom door opened and Beca stepped inside, leaning against the doorjamb and digging at the chipping nail polish on her fingers. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and Claire could see the prominent circles under her eyes with the absence of her usual black eyeliner. She hated what had happened earlier that evening and the harsh ultimatum that she had given her daughter, but clearly, Beca was hiding more from her than she had suspected. She looked exhausted.

“Did I wake you?”

Claire shook her head and patted her bed, holding out hope that Beca would join her. Beca used to lie in her bed and talk for hours, letting her mom comb her hair and rub her back until she would fall asleep. Two years felt like a lifetime ago.

“I couldn’t sleep. I had a latte at the restaurant and that tea was caffeinated. I’m not going to fall asleep anytime soon.”

Beca slipped into the room and sat on the far side of the bed, out of reach of her mother’s hands but close enough to be present. It stung to see how distant her daughter was being, but at least she was here. That counted.

“Just doing some late-night laundry?” Claire asked tentatively and felt bad when Beca blushed and looked down at her lap, refusing to meet her mother’s eyes. “Oh sweetie, it’s okay.”

Beca desperately tried to blink the tears from her eyes, but they were stinging at the corners and she couldn’t force them back. She tried to shrug her mother away when she moved to her knees and came to rest behind her, pulling her into a loose hug from behind, but it didn’t feel terrible. She hadn’t let her mom hug her since she walked into the funeral home and nearly collapsed when she saw the closed casket.

“I have these nightmares every time I fall asleep. I see him lying on the road as plain as day or hear screaming. I can _feel_ the fire from the accident and the pain in my arm. And then I wake up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She leaned into her mother’s soothing touch and strained to hear the comforting words she was whispering to her. She could feel nausea rising in her chest and closed her eyes tightly to push it away. That was the **last** thing she needed tonight.

“Are you afraid to tell me about these things? I’m just trying to understand when I stopped being someone you could trust. You used to tell me everything. **Whatever** it is you’re going through I am here for you. I could help you clean up or listen to you talk about your dreams. My door is closed, but not locked.”

“I don’t feel like myself anymore. I left part of myself behind in Atlanta when I came back after the accident and I think it’s the part of me you liked the best.”

“Beca, no. That is impossible. I love you-”

“-Mom, let me talk. I don’t think going back to Atlanta to go to college is going to get that back for me. I could look around and retrace my steps, but the girl you sent out to spend spring break with her father is long gone. I am not the same anymore.” The tears started to flow in steadier streams and she could feel the sobs racking against her ribs as she fought them off. She hated to cry. “But I think that I…I need help and I’ll go. I’ll go to Barden and try to figure this out.”

Claire felt a heavy weight loosen from her chest and held Beca tighter as she cried, letting loose torrents of emotions that she had been holding back for months. If she had known that Beca felt that way about herself she never would have pulled her out of therapy. She had failed her daughter. Maybe not all at once, but in small increments until they reached the point where sending her away was the only way to cure what ailed her.

“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow. Stay with me tonight. I’ll stay up until you fall asleep. Okay?”

“Okay.”


	2. 001 - All I Needed Was For Light To Reach The Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca and her mom fly across the country to get her settled in at Barden. Beca continues to have unsettling dreams of memories she can't quite place.

* * *

“I need the world’s largest cup of coffee. Do you want anything, Bec?”

Beca looked up from the book she had slipped into her laptop bag and shook her head. They had a four-hour flight to Atlanta coming up and the last thing she wanted was something that was going to keep her awake. Her mother had made her an appointment with her doctor a few days after her father had flown back home and he had written her a prescription for a mild sleeping pill. It had made all the difference in the world and she had saved the last pill in the bottle so she’d have one to take before their flight took off.

Her mom just shrugged and Beca watched as she walked up to the Starbucks kiosk, rummaging through her wallet while joining the line. Her mother had _insisted_ on accompanying Beca on the trip despite her constant assurance that she would be just fine on her own and it was all just a little too…cheery for Beca. There had been fluffy pancakes at breakfast and a new MacBook sitting on the table next to her plate. They had gone on a shopping trip the week before for lighter clothes for the sweltering Atlanta summers and her mom had worked half days in the week leading up to her heading off to school. It had all felt like overcompensation for something that had been missed and while Beca appreciated the effort and the new stuff, it all rung a little false to her.

She slid the book back into the bag and leaned back in her chair, peering out the window across from her at the empty tarmac. Their plane was set to arrive at any moment and it wouldn’t be long before they shuffled onboard and flew off to her new life. She had never spent more than a few days away from her mother’s house and this would be the first time that they would really be separate from each other. Even when she had been forced to spend holidays with her father she or her dad would find excuses to cut the trips short. This was permanent and hard to fathom if she really thought about it.

At some point tomorrow, her mom would shut the door to her dorm room and leave her alone to either fall on her face or make some kind of life for herself. It made her sick to her stomach.

“You wouldn’t believe how much this cost me”, Claire murmured while sinking into the seat next to Beca. She was clutching a large glass of iced coffee in one hand and holding out a smaller cup of iced water for Beca to take. “It’s practically highway robbery. Here, I brought you this. I can’t imagine what they charge for drinks on the plane if they charge $5.50 for some coffee with ice in the terminal.”

Beca took the drink from her mother and took a few long sips through the straw. She surprised herself with how parched her mouth had grown and she stopped herself before she sucked down half of the glass. She watched her mom run a hand through her hair restlessly and cross her left leg over her right, sitting up a little straighter as she looked around. She was nervous and it didn’t make Beca feel any less uneasy about the whole thing. If it didn’t feel like her presence had become an imposition on her mother she’d ask if they could just call the whole thing off and enroll her in a school around here. She’d keep her nose clean. She’d be better.

“How much longer do you think it’s going to be before we board? I wanted to go to the bathroom before we took off.”

“I think the last announcement from the flight attendant was that the plane was ten minutes out. You know it takes _forever_ for them to get everyone off and clean it though so you have time. Do you want me to hold your drink?”

Beca just shook her head as she stood and straightened out her flannel. She palmed the outside of the pocket above her heart, feeling slightly relieved when she felt the outline of the pill underneath her fingers. Her mother would kill her if she found out about this, having kept a close count of all of her prescriptions since her dad’s visit. But Beca **had** been a good patient over the past few weeks and she owed herself a few moments of calm through this fucking catastrophe.

“I’m going to take a walk, maybe run down to the book store and see if they have anything good. I’m nearly done with mine.” She flashed her mom an easy smile so she wouldn’t seem suspicious and didn’t move until her mom nodded and looked down at her phone.

Sometimes Beca just knew what her mother wanted from her and all she had to do was deliver to make her happy. Sometimes it made her feel like a phony and a liar. Most of the time she didn’t give a fuck.

* * *

She slid the door of the handicapped stall closed behind her and leaned up against it, taking a few calming breaths as she got her bearings. She had half expected her mother to have read through the look on her face and to have followed her to the bathroom to stop her. She must’ve been convincing enough though as she stood there counting her breaths and didn’t hear footsteps approaching.

She rested the cup on the sink and dug through the small breast pocket, carefully pulling the small pill out and staring down at it as it rested on her palm. Her doctor had written her the prescription for Trazodone to accomplish two goals: getting her some sleep and helping with the depression. So far, she hadn’t felt much better mentally, but sleep was definitely coming easier and that was all she really cared about.

Her parents had agreed that she would get a new primary care doctor in Atlanta and would start seeing a psychiatrist again as well. Sheila had already gotten the appointments set up and promised that they were both highly recommended and very nice from her experience interacting with them as a pharmaceutical sales rep. Beca wasn’t sure how slinging free samples of pills made her an expert on anything, but she didn’t have much leverage to argue. Her dad had mentioned that the two doctors would work together to get her on the right medicines but to also avoid medicating her just for the hell of it. Again, she didn’t have much room to argue that she liked being medicated. It made it easier with the memories dulled.

She slipped the pill into her mouth and swallowed it with a sip of her water, closing her eyes as she felt it pass over the back of her tongue. She pushed her hair away from her face as she finished off her water and kept her eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears at bay. She hated being so emotional all of the time. If her mom saw her crying she’d just make a scene and that was the last thing she wanted. She hated to get her wound up.

She pushed away from the door and leaned against the sink, holding herself upright with clenched hands on porcelain as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were teary and slightly red, but you could barely tell with the eyeliner she had meticulously applied that morning. She dabbed away at an errant streak of makeup with shaking fingers and took deep breaths until the urge to break down went away.

She was a big girl. She was almost 19. It was time to be an adult. She would be okay at Barden.

She was an expert at lying to herself.

* * *

“Window or aisle?”

Claire reached for Beca’s carry-on bag to load in the overhead bin and waited for an answer as the stood in front of their seats in first class. Her father had booked the tickets for them, claiming that Sheila had a ton of frequent flyer miles just going unused, but she also knew that he was probably just trying to endear himself to her. It was really unnecessary. She couldn’t possibly feel anything but disdain towards him ever again.

“Aisle. You know I hate heights.”

Claire just smiled wanly and scooched over to the window seat, situating her personal items under the seat in front of her before sitting down and getting her seatbelt fastened. Beca joined her once she was settled and pulled her headphones out of her bag before sliding it underneath the seat in front of her. She plugged the long cord into the headphone jack on the bottom of her phone and eased it out of her back pocket, resting it on her knee as she navigated to a playlist she had downloaded before she left the house.

After she fastened her seatbelt, she felt her mother nudge her arm and turned to see her holding out a stick of Juicy Fruit for the ascent. Beca offered her a small smile and shook her head, planning on being knocked out far before then. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, having stayed up worrying about every possible thing she could think of. It had been around four o’clock in the morning when she stopped fretting about what the showers in the dorm would be like and sleeping through her morning classes when she had finally nodded off.

She placed her bulky over-ear headphones on and closed her eyes as she tried to get a little more comfortable in the leather seat. It was going to be a long flight and the time difference was going to suck, but at least they weren’t stuck in coach. Her dad had done one thing right.

By the time the flight attendant started to go through her safety spiel, Beca had drifted away. Mission accomplished.

* * *

_Beca hadn’t expected to get to spend time with her uncle over Easter break, but when her dad had popped into the guest bedroom the evening before and asked her if she’d ever gone to a book release party before, she could hardly contain her excitement. Her Uncle Patrick bounced between his apartment in downtown Atlanta and whatever city was up next on his literary tours. It was never a guarantee that she’d get to see him, but she had lucked out this time._

_He was set to release his next book in the ‘Danbury Murderer’ series and according to her dad, it was a big deal since there were talks about adapting it to a TV series on HBO. Beca had tried to read his novels a few times, but they didn’t interest her at all. Mysteries were definitely not her thing. He had always given her a wry smile when she suggested that he write a young adult novel and promised that he’d think about it. He was her very favorite person._

_She slung her messenger bag over her shoulder as they walked up the metal steps that led to her uncle’s loft apartment. He lived in some kind of fancy converted warehouse and her dad always teased him that he could have a nice house in the suburbs for what his rent cost each month. But Beca loved it here. There were big windows that overlooked the city and bare brick walls. She liked the way her feet echoed on the concrete floors and the modern furniture that sparsely decorated the open floorplan. Her uncle had the money to have his studio professionally decorated and Beca hoped to one day have the kind of money for that. He lived like a rockstar._

_“There’s my favorite girl!” Patrick greeted them at the top of the steps and pulled Beca in for a big hug, lifting her off of the ground as he turned in a small circle and squeezed her tight. “Long time no see, big bro.”_

_“Some of us have full-time jobs and wives to tend to. We can’t all be perpetual bachelors, little bro.”_

_Patrick released Beca and winked at Warren, motioning for them to come further into his apartment and make themselves comfortable. Beca sunk onto his couch and let her feet rest on the leather ottoman in front of her as her Uncle and dad hugged. She hadn’t seen Patrick in over a year and she hoped that the night would go by slowly. She had never been to a real party before and from the nice suit that her dad was wearing this was a fancy once. She had balked at the dress that Sheila had laid out on her bed that morning, but she was glad for it now. She would’ve been terribly underdressed if she had worn her favorite ratty jeans and flannel._

_“I still have to get my penguin suit on and then we can head over. My agent rented a car for this trip so we’ll show up in style.” He took a sip of something from an amber bottle and motioned towards her dad, who had sunk onto a barstool and was scrolling through his phone. “We can leave the station wagon here, Warren. Mandy rented me an Escalade.”_

_Her dad just rolled his eyes as he pulled up his school e-mail account and started to read through his student’s emails. It was nearing the crucial point of the semester where it was nearly impossible to change a grade and he was swamped with students looking for extra credit work and tips for the final exam. He had let her read through some of their essays the other night and it only made Beca long for something more challenging than her coursework. She loved to write and knew that she had inherited the skill from her dad’s side of the family. If the music thing didn’t work out maybe she could follow in their footsteps._

_Patrick finished his drink and threw the bottle into the recycling bin underneath the island in his kitchen before carefully taking his tux jacket off of its hanger and brushing a few stray pieces of lint off of it. Beca could see the outlines of his tattoo sleeves under the thin fabric of his dress shirt and made a mental note to ask him about them later. He had floral designs on one arm and a nautical theme on the other and Beca loved looking at the intricate designs and cataloging potential ideas for when she would be allowed to get her own._

_“What do you think, Bec? Do I look like hot shit or a butler?”_

_“You look great Uncle Patrick. You’ll probably be the coolest one there.”_

_“You raised this one right, Warren. She’s definitely inherited your gift of bullshit.” He smiled warmly at Beca and finished adjusting his bow tie in the mirror. Once he was satisfied that it looked good, he ran his fingertips through his shaggy hair until it looked naturally disheveled and slid a pair of aviators on his face. “Gimme one sec guys.”_

_Beca watched as he ducked into the bathroom and followed her dad’s lead as he stood up and headed over to wait by the front door. She made sure that she hadn’t left anything on the couch and that her bag was securely fastened while they waited. Her dad had told her before they had left that she would have to keep herself busy at the party and that she’d need to keep away from the main party since he wasn’t sure what kind of people would be there. She had rolled her eyes at his words but had packed her laptop and a book to entertain herself. She couldn’t imagine what kind of trouble someone could get into at a literary party, but she kinda couldn’t wait to find out._

_“Alright party people, let’s get this show on the road.” Patrick emerged from the bathroom with a big grin on his face and gave Warren a high five, palming a baggie into his hand while Beca watched in disbelief. “Party favor, big bro. Vamos!”_

_Beca hung back as they walked out of the apartment, trying to understand what she had just seen. Her dad occasionally drank two glasses of wine with dinner, but she had never seen him get drunk or anything like that. Did Patrick really just give him drugs? Is that why her dad had wanted her to keep busy at the party?_

_“Come on Beca, we’re going to be late.”_

_What the fuck?_

* * *

Beca’s brain felt like it was sloshing back and forth between the walls of her skull as they stood in baggage claim. The time difference and the flight had done her no favors and while she had slept through the trip, it had been far from refreshing. Her body felt stiff from sitting for so long and she couldn’t wait for her fucking bag to finally show up so they could head off to the hotel. They would sleep in tomorrow and head over to the college to meet up with Warren and Sheila to get her settled in. Sheila had taken care of getting her room furnishings and accessories so there was less to ship and Beca had no idea what she would be walking into tomorrow.

Hopefully anything but pink. She couldn’t possibly bear it.

“Are you feeling okay, kiddo?”

Beca felt her mom touch her arm and looked up from her feet, pasting a small smile on her face as she nodded and tried to look alive. The belt had just started to move and her mom nodded towards it, pulling the handle up on her carry-on bag and trailing it behind her as she scoped out a good spot. Beca slung her laptop bag over her shoulder and pulled herself off of the wall she had been leaning on, following behind her mother to watch for her stuff. She had three suitcases and then they could get out of here.

As the bags started to slide out onto the conveyer belt, Beca smirked when she saw that her largest suitcase was one of the first ones to come out. If that was a good omen she was taking it. Any sign that this was going to be anything but terrible was welcome at this point.

* * *

It was pitch black in the hotel room when Beca woke up with a start. She couldn’t remember what she had been dreaming of, but the back of her hair was damp with sweat and she had a pounding headache. The whole night had been a blur. She could remember bits and pieces of picking up the rental car and ordering room service burgers for dinner, but it was all tinged with an undercurrent of exhaustion that made it difficult to put times and conversations to the memories.

Her mom was curled up on her side on the queen bed opposite hers. The blanket was pulled up underneath her chin and Beca could hear her soft snores in the near-silent room. She moved one of the pillows away that was obstructing her view and groaned when she saw that it was a little after 3 in the morning. She hated when she woke up in the wee hours of the morning. It was always too late to find anything good on TV and far too early to be up for the day. Her stomach turned a little at the idea of eating continental breakfast down in the lobby a few hours from now and then heading off to school. It reminded her of the summer that her parents tried to force her into summer camp. It was the summer before they got divorced and Beca suspected now that they just got rid of her to try to figure out their shit one last time.

Surprise, surprise, it didn’t work.

Beca pined for her mom for four weeks and feigned stomach aches to get out of arts and crafts and swimming in the lake. It wasn’t until her camp counselor tried to talk to her one night and she broke down into tears that they called her parents and suggested that this wasn’t the best fit for Beca. She suspected there wouldn’t be enough fake stomach aches and crying spells to get out of this.

Beca rose from her bed and walked to the en suite, sliding the door behind her before turning on the light. Her hair was messy and she should’ve taken a wet washcloth to her makeup before falling asleep, but she looked okay. If she had a shower and pasted on a smile her mom wouldn’t think anything was up. She cupped her hands under the tap and splashed the water on her face, blinking away the sleep that still lingered and waking herself up. No good dreams would come from trying to go back to sleep. Not with the worry and racing thoughts that were lingering on the edges of her consciousness. Not after she had dreamed of that night on the plane.

When she slid the door back open she could see the minibar glowing next to the dresser. She _knew_ that she shouldn’t, but her mom was still snoring and her pulse was still racing and she needed something to take the edge off. Plus, she wouldn’t find out until she got the bill at check-out.

Beca opened the door and pulled out two bottles of Heineken. It wasn’t her beer of choice, but when her only other option was hard liquor she couldn’t be choosy. The last thing she needed was a hangover. She tugged off one of the caps, took a long pull from the bottle, and closed the door before the dim light woke her mother up. She grabbed her laptop from her bag, stepped out onto the balcony, and got to work nursing her beers and mixing until the sun came up. It felt good to have the edges dulled.

She hid the empty bottles in the planter on the balcony. She took a long shower, carefully rimming her eyes with eyeliner as her mom flipped lazily through a book on her Kindle. She put on a nice shirt and dutifully followed her mom down to the lobby to grab some breakfast. And as she nibbled on some tasteless scrambled eggs and sipped from a styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee, she truly believed she could play the part that her parents wanted her to play.

* * *

“I wasn’t sure what you like to eat, so I bought you a little bit of everything. There’s ramen and pop-tarts in the bin under your bed, plus some microwave popcorn and some Pringles. And water and soda in your mini-fridge with some frozen food too. The dining hall won’t open until everyone else is back on campus, but there are plenty of places around campus that deliver and you can come over any time you want for dinner. Does that sound good, honey?”

Beca’s eyes rolled so hard that she practically fell over from her perch on her perfectly made twin-sized bed. She had walked into a fully decorated room and sat back as her dad showed her mom pictures of her step-brother on his phone and Sheila refused to take no for an answer as she unzipped her suitcases and stacked t-shirts in her dresser and hung coats and flannels in the small closet. She wasn’t sure what Sheila’s motive was for buttering her up about the groceries that she had purchased for her, but she wasn’t about to make _her_ feel like she was some kind of hero for doing something that wasn’t asked of her.

If they weren’t completely abandoning her on this campus, Sheila wouldn’t have needed to get her anything in the first place. She had been shocked when they walked down the hall of the dorm and there was **no one**. It wasn’t until her dad sprung the news on her that freshmen wouldn’t be arriving on campus until Thursday that she truly realized how alone she was going to be. They had reserved early arrivals for athletes and foreign students and, from what Beca had observed, there were neither of those groups in her residence hall. She couldn’t believe him sometimes. For someone that was apparently concerned about his daughter’s depression and lonely state, he could be really naïve. **This** was the perfect environment to make all of those feelings balloon.

“Thank you for getting everything set up, Sheila. Beca and I are both appreciative of everything you’ve done. This room looks perfect.” Her mother leaned on the post of the bed next to her and squeezed her shoulder, letting her know that her silence was not appreciated. “It must’ve taken you hours to get everything moved in and ready.”

“It was no problem at all. I never got to live on campus when I was in school and I’ve always wanted to decorate a dorm room. It’s going to be a long time before our little guy is off to school, so it was my pleasure. It wasn’t all me though – Warren helped too. I needed my big, tall guy to hang the curtains and the posters up.”

Beca was going to puke. All over the purple plaid comforter that was tucked neatly under her mattress and the mound of throw pillows on top.

“I was happy to help. It’s not every day that your oldest child heads off to college.” Her dad shot her a tight smile and reached for his sports coat that was hanging off of her computer chair. “We should be going – we don’t really like leaving Aiden with the babysitter for too long. Before we go, I got you this.”

He held out a planner to Beca and she took it in her hands, flipping through the pages and quirking a brow when she saw that every day for the next few weeks had some kind of event or reminder written down. There were doctor appointments and dinners with them and her class schedule all neatly squeezed into the small spaces. He had even written down times when he was going to call her or stop by to check-in. What were they going to do next? Send Sheila over before work each day to make sure her shoes were tied and her hair was brushed for class? This was insulting. She was an adult.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, but I know that these next few weeks might seem overwhelming and I wanted to get everything straight for you. We’ve got you set up to see your new primary care doctor tomorrow and then the psychiatrist on Wednesday and hopefully that will give you a few days to get used to any prescriptions they put you on before class starts. Some structure will be good, Bec. It was your mom’s idea.”

Beca glared at her mother as she shifted next to her, clearly uncomfortable to have been called out by her husband when she knew that Beca was upset. Her mother could be just as bad as him sometimes.

“I’ll be by tomorrow at eleven to pick you up. We’ll grab lunch before your appointment.” Her dad kissed the top of her head and as much as she wanted to rear away from him, she let him do it. There was no point in causing a scene when he was about to leave. “Claire, have a wonderful flight. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

He patted his ex-wife’s arm and wrapped an arm around Sheila’s back as he guided her to the door. Beca could see that Sheila looked upset and couldn’t quite place why she would be blinking back tears or unable to say goodbye. She had been cordial to her and hadn’t snipped or muttered a sarcastic reply all afternoon. It had almost seemed normal.

They all were fucked up.

* * *

“Alright kiddo, it looks like everything is either put away or just waiting for you to organize it.” Claire motioned to a small box of records that Beca had shipped to her father’s house and the pile of mixing equipment stacked on top. Her mom had offered to unbox it for her, but she had cut her off mid-sentence and said she had it covered. It was one of the only signs of life she had shown them all day. “Do you want to go grab some dinner before I head back to the hotel? I have a red-eye flight tomorrow so I have to be checked out by four at the latest.”

“Can I just get some sleep? I’m not hungry and if I wake up starving I have stuff I can eat. I can make a pb&j unless they hid all the knives from me.”

Claire laughed for the first time all day and reached out for her daughter, pulling her in for a tight hug as she rubbed her back and blinked back her own tears. She wasn’t sure if she trusted Beca enough to leave her alone here and she hated the idea of her having to rely on Warren of all people, but what other choice did she have?

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Do you need anything at the store? I gave Sheila a list of the bathroom supplies and food you like, but maybe she missed something.”

“Mom, I’m fine. I already checked – there’s plenty of shampoo and tampons and granola bars to last me for a while. Besides, if I need anything, dad scheduled plenty of time with me to run to the store and stock up.” She rolled her eyes as her mom laughed again and pulled away from the hug, straightening her shirt and smoothing down her hair as she took in the sight of her mother. It was hard to stay angry with her. She had been the one constant through everything. “Please don’t cry. We all knew I’d have to leave the nest eventually.”

“I love you so much, Beca. Please don’t hate me for this. I hate leaving you here and I hate that we didn’t get to do this the right way.”

“Mom, I’m angry but I don’t hate you. I just…I need some time to adjust to all this.” She motioned towards her small room and bit her lip, feeling her own emotions start to flare up. She had been so good today and had managed to keep control of everything, but seeing her mom cry always made her upset. “I’ll call you every day and you’ll be the first to know if I need anything, okay? I’m not going to hurt myself so please don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Her mom broke down into ugly sobs at that point and pulled her in for another hug before kissing her cheek and shifting her purse onto her shoulder. She pulled out several folded bills from her wallet and pressed them into Beca’s hands, squeezing them shut as she walked towards the door.

“I love you. I’ll call you as soon as my flight lands tomorrow.”

“Love you too.”

Her mom stepped through the door and closed it behind her, the door latching with a sickening snap. She was really alone now. She took in everything in the small room as she sat on her computer chair and started to tear at the tape that held the box of records closed. There was a small bathroom and a closet with room for a dresser and a rack to hang some clothes. Her bed had built-in storage above it and her desk was under the window that overlooked the quad. Her dad had hung a flat-screen TV on the wall opposite her bed and there was another dresser underneath it, along with a plastic storage unit full of her school books and supplies.

How could so little make a new life?

* * *

_She felt nauseous before anything else. Then like her head was being split open. And then pain. Pure pain like nothing she had ever felt before._

_She tried to open her eyes, but they felt far too heavy to even attempt it. She felt groggy like she had just fallen asleep and was being re-awakened before she had time to really get some rest. She swallowed and gagged a little upon feeling how dry her mouth was. Why did her throat hurt?_

_She kept still for a moment and tried to calm herself so she could take inventory of everything. She could feel smooth sheets underneath her left hand, but her right arm felt stiff and achy. When she tried to move it she felt rough fabric tug around her neck and immediately stopped. It smelt vaguely like cleaning products and she could see bits of bright light peeking through her closed eyelids. Was she in a hospital? That was impossible. The last thing she remembered was going to the party with her uncle and dad and reading her book out on the balcony while loud music pulsed inside the rented loft._

_“How could you do this, Warren? How could you lie about something like this?”_

_She heard a low voice coming from her left side. It felt like she was listening through a tunnel, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was laced with southern charm and bouncy, like a sorority girl. She had hated hearing it when she visited her dad at his new home. She couldn’t understand why he would re-marry after his first marriage failed and especially why he would marry someone that was so much younger than him. She reminded Beca of Elle Woods and not in the ‘Reese Witherspoon is fucking hot’ good way._

_Why was she so angry with her dad? She’d never heard Sheila sound like that. Not even when Beca had pissed her off or that time when she had dropped one of their good pieces of china that was a wedding gift._

_Something was up._

_“I **had** to, Sheila. I couldn’t let something like this ruin my life. Especially not when you’re two months pregnant. The stress would be too much for all of us.”_

_“Don’t you dare try to blame this on me! What about your brother’s reputation? What are people going to think when the news gets wind of this? They’re going to call him a murderer.”_

_“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing he won’t be around to hear about it.”_

_Beca could hear Sheila scoff loudly and tugged her eyes open, desperate to see exactly what they were arguing about. She groaned softly when her right eye wouldn’t open and blinked lazily with her left eye until everything came slowly into focus. She was definitely in a hospital room. Her right arm was in a cast starting at her wrist and was hidden by a dark blue sling resting against her chest. She could see an IV coming out of her left hand and cuts and bruises along her forearm._

_And then she saw her dad, sitting close to the door and holding his head in his hands. He had a bandage around his forehead and a set of crutches leaning against the wall next to him. He looked like he was crying as his body shuddered._

_She felt a presence on her right side, but couldn’t make out much with her eye swollen shut. She swallowed again and gathered enough moisture in her mouth to softly say “Mom?”_

_Sheila rushed forward from her position next to Beca’s bed and reached out for her hand, holding it carefully to avoid the needle and the scrapes while squeezing it tightly. It was too bright in there and she was **so** tired. She couldn’t help herself from closing her eyes again to shut the light out. _

_“Oh sweetheart, she’s on her way. She got on a plane right before you went into surgery. She should be here in no time. Are you in pain?”_

_Beca groaned a little in response and tried hard to squeeze Sheila’s hand back, but everything but falling back asleep felt impossible at the moment. Why was she so tired?_

_“It’s okay honey, get some rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up again.”_

_She could feel herself slipping back under. The pain was lessening and it was harder to focus on Sheila’s soft words. She wasn’t scared though. It felt like when she’d crawl into her mom’s bed after a nightmare and would just be nodding off under the warm down blankets._

_Someone was stroking her face. She could feel lips kiss her cheek. And then it was still._

_Before she slipped away completely she felt Sheila let go of her hand and the scrape of her chair pushing back hard against linoleum._

_“This is **your** daughter, Warren. You should be the one comforting her and holding her hand.”_

_“Sheila-“_

_“-Get your hands off of me. I can’t even look at you right now without feeling sick.”_

* * *

Beca opened her eyes as the sound of her phone buzzing cut through her dream. It was still dark in her room, with a peak of sunlight starting to rise in the horizon behind the quad. Her head ached a little and she felt a phantom pain in the long scar that decorated her forearm. She shook it away as she sat up a little to tug her phone from the charger on her desk and looked down at the screen, smirking a little at the messages.

Mom (4:14 a.m.): Really Beca???!!! Two bottles of Heineken. You’re so lucky I can’t ground you.

Mom (6:30 a.m.): Taking off now. I’ll call you when I land. Love you.

She swiped the rest of her notifications off of the screen before plugging it back into the wall and rolling onto her side, pulling her blankets over her head to block out the sun. She wasn’t sweaty and her breath wasn’t coming in gasps. It hadn’t been a good memory, but it was one that she dreamt about often. It was the turning point of everything being awful.

She closed her eyes and tried to shove those thoughts away. And to her surprise, she felt herself slipping back into darkness easily as she fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Glowing by Phantogram.


	3. 002 - It's Hell on Earth and the City's on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca tries to get used to her new life at Barden University. She makes friends with her wild neighbor Fat Amy and is given an introduction to the Barden Bellas.

* * *

_It hurt. Strike that. It really fucking hurt. She tried to open her eyes but a strike of pain rushed through her head and she slammed them shut again. It didn’t matter though. She had only been able to see complete darkness in the fleeting moments before she closed them._

_“Daddy? Dad, wake up!”_

_A girl was screaming from somewhere nearby. A car horn was blaring even closer to her. Her own breaths were coming in harsh pants as her ribs ached. Something told her not to move, so she kept as still as possible and tried to will the pain away._

_Everything was aching. Her arm felt like it was on fire as she held it close to her chest. She could feel something sticky running down her cheeks. And it was freezing. Why was it so cold? It felt like she was laying on ice. She just wanted to go home. Her mom was expecting a call from her before she went to sleep to see how the party had gone. She would be so worried about her._

_“Warren, you’ve got to move me. Get me into the driver’s seat.”_

_“Patty, I can’t move you. Your shirt is covered with blood. I don’t…the cut on your chest is really bad.” Warren couldn’t continue speaking and took a deep breath, willing himself to continue. “I think if I move you it’s not going to stop. Something is coming out of your chest.”_

_Patrick was breathing in gasps and Beca could hear something rattling in his chest with each exhale. Her dad’s voice sounded shaky as he spoke to his little brother and he kept shuddering like he was holding back tears. Beca couldn’t help but think that being unable to open her eyes wasn’t all that bad. She had no idea what she would be seeing. It sounded really bad._

_She could hear sirens in the distance. The girl was still yelling for her father, but it was only occasionally now. Beca could hear her crying out in pain over all of the other sounds. It was overwhelming her senses and she was starting to feel nauseous. It was getting harder to stay awake._

_“I don’t care, Warren. It has to look like I was driving. Put your arm around me and pull. I’ll help you.”_

_Beca’s whole body was shivering. She flattened her left hand out and paused when she felt gravel underneath her. She was on the road. Why wasn’t she still in the car? Had she been thrown from it? That was impossible. As badly as she felt, she knew that she would be far worse off if that had happened._

_She heard her father slowly count to three. On three, Patrick’s horrific screams cut through the air. She fought against the pain and tried to sit up, needing to see if he was okay as she forced her eyes open._

_Something was on fire. Lights were flashing in the distance. She could see her father leaning in through the open driver’s side of the car. And then there was darkness as she slipped away._

* * *

“How have you been sleeping, Beca?”

Beca looked up from her lap and studied the doctor that was sitting in a leather chair across from her. The shrink up at the hospital at home had been the old-school type with the wood-paneled walls and couch for her to lay on while he probed her mind. This office was far more modern with bare white walls lined with bookshelves and a pair of comfortable chairs facing each other. There was a coffee table separating her from Dr. McNulty and she didn’t seem to mind when Beca got comfortable in the chair and rested her feet on it.

Sheila had been right about one thing – her new general physician and psychiatrist were very nice. They were young too, which made Beca feel slightly more comfortable. It had been weird for her to talk about all of her teenage issues with an old dude. This doctor had tattoos peeking out from underneath her cardigan and a dish of Laffy Taffy on her desk next to her Mac.

Beca liked her the moment she met her.

“It’s been okay. It’s just really quiet in the dorms so falling asleep is kinda rough. My mom is sending me a white noise machine.”

“That might be helpful. I’m sure it’s an adjustment from what you’re used to and it’s definitely going to be different once all of your classmates have arrived.” The doctor typed some notes on her laptop and slid her fingers around on her trackpad, pulling up a file and reading through it as Beca watched. This was **definitely** more modern than moody Dr. Hyde and his yellow legal pads. “I don’t love that your old doctor gave you medication to sleep – it doesn’t really treat the issues that are stopping you from sleeping. Since you have some dependence on them I’ll prescribe you a small dosage and you can use them at your discretion. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if and when you need them. Does that sound good?”

Beca couldn’t believe that someone was actually asking for her opinion about her treatment. That someone was treating her like she was an adult. It was refreshing. If she was a different person she’d hug Sheila when she picked her up later.

“That sounds great. I’ll try to get through the next few days without them, but once I’m in class it will be nice to make sure that I’m actually getting some sleep when I need to be up in the mornings.”

“That sounds like a really good plan. We can work together to get this right.” Dr. McNulty closed her laptop and walked over to the printer that was sitting on one of her shelving units. She pressed a few buttons on it and a moment later a piece of paper slid out of the bottom. She scrawled her signature on it and handed it to Beca before sitting back down. “I’m sure you don’t have a pharmacy here yet, but Sheila will know the best place to take you. Now, what do you want to get out of our sessions?”

Beca’s mind went blank. There was almost too much that she could possibly say. She wanted to sleep better. She didn’t want to have nightmares anymore. She wanted to have a better relationship with her mother with more trust and actual communication with her father. She wanted to know why her father had switched places with Patrick in the accident. She wanted to be able to forget about the fact that an innocent person had died that evening. That Patrick literally bled to death while her father watched and she laid unconscious on the pavement.

“Where’d you go, Beca?”

Beca looked up at the doctor’s inquisitive face and shook her head a little as she blushed. She was a wreck. She propped an arm up on the chair and rested her chin in her hand as she softly said, “I guess whatever my parents want me to get out of them. They set up the appointment.”

“Come on, you’re going to have to do better than that.” Dr. McNulty leaned back in her chair to match Beca’s posture and smiled as she rested her feet on the coffee table across from Beca’s pair. “You and I both know that you could have stayed in bed or come here and not said a word. There has to be something you want to accomplish from seeing me or it’s going to be a waste of your time. If your parents are going to force you to come here we should at least choose one thing to work towards.”

She _had_ a point, Beca guessed. If she had no choice but to spend an hour here each week then she might as well not make this a waste of time. And, as much as she wanted to be petulant, she did like this doctor and would feel slightly bad about giving her a hard time.

“I have gaps from the night of the accident that I can’t remember. There are things that my dad remembers or details that the police told me but I can’t recall. Do you think you’d be able to help with that? I’ve dreamt about it a lot and sometimes I’ll remember new pieces of everything that happened, but that doesn’t happen all that often anymore.”

“Sometimes when a person experiences trauma the brain will block out certain things to protect itself. Your brain may be stopping you from remembering something because it’s going to be difficult for you to cope with it. The brain is an amazing and complex organ.” The doctor reached for her laptop again and opened it, pulling up a blank word document so she could start taking notes. “I can’t promise that we’ll get all of those gaps cleared up for you or even that you’ll remember anything new, but there are a few techniques we can try to get things loosened up. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Perfect! So, we have some time before your time is up and your suffering ends. Why don’t you tell me a little about what your life was like back in Seattle before all this stuff started?”

* * *

Beca hated to admit it, but Aiden was pretty cute. Sheila had asked Beca if she could keep an eye on the little dude while she made them lunch and hadn’t really given her an opportunity to refuse before she headed off towards the kitchen. She had never imagined herself having a sibling, with her mom swearing off serious relationships after divorcing her father and her dad always saying that he was too old for another kid, but here he was. He was propped up against a pillow on the couch across from her and chewing on a gummy ring of keys while staring at her with big blue eyes. Occasionally he would laugh at her and lunge forward to grab her leg and she couldn’t stop herself from catching him and laughing back at him before propping him back up. She wasn’t about to feed him a bottle or change a diaper, but it wasn’t as terrible as she had thought it would be. It was actually kind of nice.

It also wasn’t all that terrible being in this house without her father. She had avoided Sheila like the plague whenever she used to visit before they got married, but Sheila had become a lot more chill towards her since the accident. She was always asking how she was doing and running interference when she was in tough conversations with her dad and Beca couldn’t help but think that maybe she felt bad for her. But whenever she went down that train of thought, she remembered the conversation she had overheard at the hospital after waking up from her surgery and thought that maybe Sheila knew more than she was letting on.

That maybe it was just as difficult for her to keep the secret about who exactly had been driving that car as it was for Beca to live with it.

“Beca, lunch is ready! Bring your brother with you so I can give him his bottle.”

Beca gently took the ring out of his sticky hands and lifted him up, holding him close to her chest as she stood up from the couch and walked with him into the kitchen. Since it was just the two of them they were just eating at the bar in the kitchen. Sheila had pulled Aiden’s high chair next to her stool and held her arms out to take the small boy from her. Beca watched as she lifted him high into the air and placed a loud kiss onto his belly before setting him in the chair and offering him a bottle.

Aiden fumbled with the bottle for a moment, but his little hands quickly found their grip on it and he held it to his mouth to eat. Sheila caught Beca watching him with a smile and said, “He just started to be able to feed himself. It has been a **gamechanger**.”

Beca just smirked a little and wordlessly sunk onto the stool next to Sheila. There was a grilled cheese sandwich on a paper plate in front of her seat, along with a tall glass of iced tea. She had never had sweet tea until she had started visiting her dad and it was definitely an acquired taste. She would much rather have a glass of water but didn’t want to offend Sheila for the effort she had made to feed her.

“I’m sorry it’s not much. I’m still getting used to cooking for more than just myself.” Sheila took a bite of her sandwich and looked down at Aiden, checking that he was still feeding himself successfully. “I used to travel so much before I met your father that I never really had to cook. I don’t think he knew what he was getting into when he asked me to marry him.”

“It’s okay. Really – I probably would’ve just had ramen or ordered in pizza. You didn’t have to make me anything.”

Sheila smiled at her and they continued to eat in silence that was occasionally interrupted by Aiden’s soft murmurs and coos. Beca had talked so much at her doctor’s appointment that she was glad for the quiet. It felt good to not feel pressured into making small talk. Sheila couldn’t stop staring at the little guy and Beca couldn’t help but wonder if her dad was just as mesmerized by the kid. Ever since the divorce it often felt like she was an afterthought to him and while she didn’t want to be jealous of a baby, it hurt a little that he had seemingly forgotten about his first family.

“How was your appointment, Beca? I really like Dr. McNulty. She has always been one of my favorite doctors to deal with and comes highly recommended.”

“It was okay. She seems like she’s pretty nice.” Beca reached into her back pocket and pulled out the folded prescription that the doctor had given to her. She passed it over to Sheila and watched her face as she read over it, trying hard to keep her expression neutral as she recognized the drug that Beca would be given. “She had said that you would know where I should get that filled. I’m sorry, I forgot that I even had it. We probably could have stopped on the ride back here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll have your dad run it up to the store when he gets back from work. He has to be up at the school tomorrow for another day of these meetings so he can run it over to your room. I know he really wanted to take you today and feels bad that he couldn’t make it. This was a last-minute thing.”

Beca just smirked and stopped herself from laughing. She **knew** her father would do anything to get out of spending time with her. It had been so awkward riding with him the other day to her new primary care doctor’s office and he would barely look at her. When she had walked out of the exam room and saw how embarrassed he looked in the waiting room she had nearly told him to cancel today’s appointment. She had almost felt relieved when Sheila had been sitting outside her dorm room at ten a.m. with two fresh glasses of iced coffee.

“Beca, I just want you to know that I realize your parents are putting a lot on you with all of this. It’s a lot to expect someone to move the whole way across the country and essentially live on their own, especially if that someone is only eighteen years old. I’m sure that coming to Barden wasn’t in any of your plans and I’m sorry that they ambushed you with it and all of the conditions they expect of you. I had told your dad that I was happy to have you out here, and I meant that, but I didn’t expect it to be like this.” Sheila reached out a hand slowly to Beca and she was surprised when Sheila didn’t reach for her hand to hold but instead traced the scar on her right arm slowly with her fingertips. It had long since stopped aching, but occasionally it would bother her a little. The scar wasn’t much to look at either. “If you ever need anyone to talk to just know that I’m here. Anything between us stays a secret from your father. And even if you just need them to back off a little, I can take care of that conversation too. You’re not alone in being pissed off at them.”

“Thanks – I appreciate it. It’s just been…it’s a lot. I’m hoping things will change when people start to move in.”

“I feel you there, it must be terribly lonely. I think things will be a lot different once you start making some friends.” Beca looked down as tears sprung to her eyes and Sheila noticed, but didn’t say a word. She instead took the bottle from Aiden’s still hands and carried it over to the sink to wash later. She was thankful that she had made the very wise decision to serve lunch on paper plates. All the dishes and laundry and general housework were driving her crazy. “Well, looks like the little dude is conked out. It’s crazy how much work a baby is. I knew I would be busy with him, but it’s a lot harder with this house and work. There’s always something that needs to be done.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you guys get such a big house? You’ve never seen our place in Seattle, but it’s tiny compared to this. Dad never wanted anything bigger.”

“Well, Beca…that’s a hard one. Come on, let’s go sit where it’s more comfortable.”

Sheila stood up and carefully picked Aiden up from his highchair, holding him in her arms and rocking him gently to prevent him from waking up. Beca threw her plate away and followed behind Sheila as she walked towards the sitting room. Beca couldn’t help but feel a little bemused that they had an area separate from their living room to just sit and do nothing. It made the times when her mother struggled to afford everything and the child support wasn’t regularly coming in sting just a little bit more. Sometimes people had too much money.

Sheila placed the small boy in his bouncer and sunk onto the couch close to him. Beca sat on the loveseat across from them and made sure not to put her feet on the fabric or stretch out to get comfortable. She knew from experience that it was one of Sheila’s biggest pet peeves.

“I think your dad expected that we’d have a few kids and grow into the place. I don’t think he had a set number in mind when he started looking for houses, but this place kinda fell into his lap. He had been riding his bike one day and the realtor was putting up the for-sale sign and I guess he figured that was a sign. I always wanted to have at least three kids, but now I’m not so sure.” Sheila looked down at her sleeping son and nudged his bouncer with the heel of her foot, sending it into a gentle motion as he slept soundly. “I think I could be happy being a mom to him and a stepmom to you. That would be enough.”

“Why? What made you change your mind about having a big family?”

“I just…marriage is tough. You and your partner are growing and changing and sometimes those two things are happening at different paces. You swear to love each other through sickness and health, but I don’t think you expect to deal with hard things when you make those vows. Or at least I didn’t. It hasn’t been an easy year.”

“I’m sorry. I thought everything was going perfectly for you guys.”

Sheila looked up at Beca and smiled sadly before shifting away from the baby and closer to her. Beca didn’t pull away when Sheila placed a hand over one of hers and squeezed it firmly.

“I love your father, Beca. I love the life we’ve created together and this big, wasteful house. I love your little brother and I love you. I’m **so** happy that you’re close to us and that you actually want to spend time with me without running to the guest room. I never thought we’d be able to have an actual conversation.” She motioned towards Aiden and softly added, “Your father did not make that pregnancy easy for me. He was going through a lot and he took his anger and sadness out on me. I love being a mom and I think I’m pretty okay at it, but I don’t think I can go through all of that again.”

Beca didn’t know what to say. The look on Sheila’s face made her think that the woman had never planned on revealing so much, but couldn’t stop herself once she got started. It felt nice to be trusted to hear that kind of thing about her father and she couldn’t say that she was surprised by it. But feeling empathy towards Sheila was a lot to swallow. The kindness and love that Sheila had shown her after the accident had been one of the only good things to come from it, but no matter how many care packages or grilled cheese sandwiches she made for Beca she would always be the other woman to her.

A car backfired outside of the house and that was enough to wake her little brother. Aiden’s soft cries broke the lingering silence between the pair. Sheila quickly rose from the couch and took the boy into her arms to rock him steadily. She looked around the room for his pacifier and Beca jumped to action, happy to have the distraction. She rushed off towards the kitchen and looked around the room, spotting it on the floor under where Sheila had been sitting. She ran some warm water over it and wiped it with a paper towel before taking it back to Sheila and being greeted with a weary smile as she pressed it into her outstretched hand.

“Aw, that’s much better. Tell your sister thank you, buddy.” Beca just rolled her eyes and sunk onto an easy chair as she watched Sheila slowly pace the room with him. “You wouldn’t believe how often we do this. We practically have a path worn out in the carpet up in the nursery.”

It didn’t take long to calm the boy and Sheila started to hum to him softly to lull him back to sleep. Beca couldn’t recognize the song, but it was comfortable in a familiar way. It made tears bloom in her eyes and she dug her palms into them to try to stave them off. She hated crying and she especially hated getting emotional in front of other people. Would it always be like this?

“Bec, are you okay? You look pale.”

“Why doesn’t my dad want to be around me? It’s like he can’t even look at me when we’re together.”

“Beca…he’s trying. I think he has a lot of guilt about the accident and putting you in that situation to begin with. He made a lot of mistakes that night that he’s still working through forgiving himself for. And, as much as you may not realize this, you look _so_ much like Patrick.” Sheila reached out and ran her fingers over the sleeve of tattoos on Beca’s left arm. She had planned on extending her tattoos down her right shoulder to her forearm, but she hadn’t figured out a good way to work around the scar from her injury. “This doesn’t help either. You have the same attitude and sarcasm. He looks at you and he sees him. It’s hard for him, but he’s trying. You know he loves you, right?”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

* * *

Beca fumbled through her bag as she tried to get into her room. She had a bag of goodies that Sheila had sent her home with in one hand and her knapsack in the other. She had sworn that she had set her keys right on top, but they were nowhere to be found.

Her face was getting red as she sunk down onto her knees and opened the bag up the whole way. She huffed a big breath to blow her hair out of her face and reached further down into the bag, fishing around for the lanyard that the tiny key was attached to. Bingo! She breathed a sigh of relief as her fingers brushed over the lanyard’s fabric and she slid it out of the bag.

She stood up with a groan and slid the key into the doorknob. She turned it to the right and stepped into her room once the door swung open. She flicked the light on and flung the bag onto her desk. She wasn’t sure what Sheila had sent her home with, but it was fucking heavy. She was just happy that she had been able to duck out before sitting through dinner with them. Her dad had gotten home early just as Sheila had put the roast on. Dinner wouldn’t be ready for a few hours and her dad had seemed almost relieved when she had said she was tired and didn’t want to stick around for dinner. The ride back had been mostly silent and that was fine with her as she clutched her bag to her chest and stared out the window, taking it all in.

She flipped open her MacBook and was about to log in when there was a knock at her door. She sighed and walked over to the door, fully expecting that her father had found a way into the dorm and was going to grill her about the doctor’s appointment or, God forbid, her feelings. He always found a way of circling back around to those.

“So, you’re the one that’s been doing my head in with your hip hop beats. I thought you’d be taller!”

She was not expected _that_.

In front of her stood a buxom blonde with her hair swept back in a high ponytail and pajama bottoms paired with koala slippers. She was holding a plate with pizza on it in her right hand and leaning against the door frame comfortably with her left. Beca had the feeling that she was going to be a trip. And trouble. Definitely trouble.

“Sorry about that. I thought I was the only one here.”

“Don’t worry about it – I’ve been shacking up with a real man treat across campus and haven’t been around much. His girlfriend is coming back to school tomorrow so I broke that one off.” A grin spread across the girl’s face as Beca raised her eyebrows at her brashness and she thrust her hand out to shake Beca’s. “Don’t look so surprised shorty; I’m a woman on a mission. My name’s Fat Amy.”

“Beca Mitchell.” Beca shook the girl’s hand briefly, hoping to herself that the moisture on it was pizza grease and not remnants from her tryst. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure. D’ya want to come over and help me finish off this pizza? I’m pretty sure we’re the only people in this building and it’ll be nice to hang out with someone that’s not trying to get into my pants.” Fat Amy waited a beat and then added, “Unless you want into my pants. You’re cute and all, but my door doesn’t swing that way.”

“No, I definitely don’t want that. Wait, that came out wrong. I mean-”

“-you’re too easy. I can tell we’re going to be **so** close. Now, are ya coming or not?”

Beca considered her options. Option A: Stay in her room and have the inevitable plate of chocolate chip cookies for dinner before fiddling with her latest mix until 4 in the morning and then crawling into bed. Option B: Go to a stranger’s dorm room and do whatever until she came up with an excuse to leave and go back to her room where she would play around with her stupid mix and go to sleep just as late.

It was an easy choice. But her conversation with Sheila started to creep into the back of her head and maybe it would be easier to do this all with a friend. Even if that friend turned out to be a completely bizarre girl who referred to herself as ‘Fat’. At this rate, could she really afford to be choosy?

“Sure, sounds great.”

* * *

_It was fucking late and there was hardly anyone left at the party so **of course** , it was the perfect time for her uncle to produce a bottle of vodka and announce that they were doing shots. She had long since slipped back into the room and had tucked herself into a secluded corner of the room where she wouldn’t be hassled for being underage but could observe her father from afar._

_How the hell was she going to get home?_

_Patrick cheered when the playlist turned to Hypnotize by Biggie and poured them another round. Her face burned with secondhand embarrassment for their antics and she tugged her headphones over her ears, turning on her own music to try to block them out and get a little bit of sleep. She was so tired._

_All she wanted to do was go home. She was clearly not welcome at this shit show._

* * *

“Amy, this is _so_ stupid. I don’t see why you can’t just approach this guy, tell him you want to sleep with him, and move on. A capella is lame.”

“We’ve gone over it four hundred times – I have an a capella plan. A famous guy like Bumper on a tiny campus like this probably has to fend girls off like rabid dingoes. I have to make myself unattainable to him and bam, he won’t be able to get enough of me.” Fat Amy pointed across the quad from their perch sat on a low wall and said, “First Unicycle, then Hat. I blew their minds so obviously they’ll tell stories of my conquest. That’s step one of the plan.”

“Maybe you should rethink a plan that involves you sleeping with people named after inanimate objects.”

“Well, we can’t all have highly original names like Beca. Now, what’s step two of the plan?”

“Jesus Christ,” Beca rolled her eyes as she looked around at all the activities and considered her exit strategy. Maybe the Quidditch club would be cool? Or she could commit social suicide and look into the math club. She hadn’t been half bad in high school. Anything would be better than accompanying Amy on this bizarre tangent. “Step two is making yourself his enemy by joining a rival a capella group. Every guy apparently wants what he can’t have.”

“Exactly! See, you do listen. And, speaking of the devil, the rival’s table is clear. Act cool and follow my lead.”

Beca stood up with a groan and raised her hands above her head, gripping them together as she stretched her back. She hadn’t slept well the previous night and was trying to get used to needing to be awake at seven a.m. to have breakfast and get across campus for her eight a.m. class. While it was two weeks into the semester, she was still finding it hard to get back into the swing of school. She swore that her father had purposely set up her schedule to ensure the maximum amount of suffering for her. And it was his fault that she had skipped two classes this week. A girl couldn’t be expected to handle a six-course load without some kind of break. She’d go crazier than she already was.

Beca looked up once she was fully stretched out and smirked as Amy slid a pair of aviator sunglasses on and started to strut across the quad to one of the tables decorated with a bright blue banner. She had never had a friend quite as…unique as Amy and she was glad that they were neighbors. She managed to break up the monotony of classes and homework and mixing and actually made sure that she got out of her room and ate and had some kind of fun every day.

She was the only good thing about this stupid school so far.

Beca hung back as Amy approached the booth. She had done some pretty lame things in her life, but a capella was beyond the pale. She had managed to hide from Amy that she had a very _slight_ ability to sing to avoid having to try out and leant herself out as moral support. But when she got a look at the blonde and redhead manning the table she thought that maybe she had underestimated the Barden Bellas. They were beautiful. And while it made her feel predatory, it wasn’t hurting anyone to look.

The blonde greeted Amy with an extended hand and looked a little taken back when Amy aggressively shook it before bursting into an impromptu rendition of Countdown by Beyoncé. Beca couldn’t help herself from laughing as the girl tried to interrupt Amy with each number that she went through and moved to the side to get out of the way as she added her own exaggerated dance moves.

“Do you want a flier? This is usually the part where we try to sell you on auditioning, but it seems like your friend is really **eager** to join.”

Beca looked away from Amy’s spectacle and saw the redhead that had been sitting next to the blonde holding out a blue piece of paper. Beca took it from her outstretched hand to be polite and slowly realized that the girl wasn’t sitting at all. She was sitting in a bright pink wheelchair sporting a hopeful look with a huge stack of fliers sitting on her lap. From the looks of it, they hadn’t gotten much interest and Beca gave her a friendly nod before pretending to read over it until Amy finished up. _How fucking long was this song?_

“So, when’s initiation?” Amy asked after she went through her last vocal riff and gave the girls a tiny bow as she waited for their applause to start. When none started, Amy raised an eyebrow expectantly at Beca and smiled as the girl sighed and clapped half-heartedly. “I must let you know that I’m the best singer in Australia. Kylie Minogue wanted lessons from me, but I knew my services would be needed here and turned her down. So, I’m kinda…in demand. No pressure though.”

“We’ll let you know when formal auditions are, but this was a good start. Can we get a name?”

“Fat Amy.” Amy paused as the two girls looked shocked and quickly added, “What? It’s not like you weren’t thinking it.”

“Wow.” The blonde held out a clipboard for Amy to fill out and turned her attention to Beca. “And what’s your name? I hope it’s not as shocking as your friends. We can’t really afford to have two in the group and uphold our reputation.”

“Beca Mitchell. I’m not interested in auditioning though, so no worries about that. And you are?”

“I’m Aubrey Posen. I’m the captain of the Bellas and in charge of all of the arrangements. And this is Chloe Beale.” She motioned over at Chloe who looked up from the fliers and gave a quick wave. “She helps with the choreography. You should think about auditioning if you have a good voice or even just like to sing for fun. We’re a little down on members at the moment so everyone is welcome to try out.”

“How many members do you have?” Beca asked while eyeing Chloe. How the fuck could someone in a wheelchair choreograph dance routines?

“Well, _technically_ it’s just me but I think we’ll have a really good turn-out from the activities fair. Freshmen tend to be eager to get involved on campus or just want to pad their resumes with an extracurricular or two. We need ten members to be competitive so we’ll be out here all day just passing these out.” The girl looked a little remiss as she looked out across the quad and Beca couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for her. But maybe she had a point. Her mandatory freshman seminar had emphasized the importance of getting involved and how good any activity would look on a resume. They had even offered extra credit for joining an activity, which seemed silly to Beca for a class that was just pass/fail. “I’m hopeful though.”

Aubrey turned her attention to an eager freshman from Beca’s class named Jessica that approached the table and Beca moved closer to Chloe, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you choreograph for the group?”

“Are you asking because I’m in a wheelchair? That’s a little insensitive.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything, I was just wondering-”

“-calm down, I’m just teasing you. The Bellas are very traditional and the routines haven’t changed in like thirty years. There’s a lot of flight attendant fingers and making hearts with your hands. I can still use my arms so Aubrey is in luck.” Chloe raised her arms a little and did some spirit fingers to try to put Beca at ease. “Seriously, it’s okay. You’re as red as a tomato.”

“Sometimes I don’t think before I say things.”

“Don’t we all? You should think about auditioning if you want to get that extra credit for your freshman class. The group used to be a lot more intense, but everyone graduated last year and Aubrey is just in it for fun. No stress though – there’s a lot of groups on campus. I hear the dungeon and dragons club is recruiting if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, but I’ll have to find another way to look like a complete loser. 20-sided dice aren’t my thing.” She winked at Chloe and couldn’t stop herself from smiling when the girl laughed. She was **really** pretty and Beca felt at ease with her for some reason. It was like they were old friends. “Why aren’t you in the group if it’s so great?”

“That was in another life for me. Besides, I don’t make a habit of having my life turn into a poor imitation of Glee. I help Aubrey with the arrangements and the routines and provide moral support. I’m the Barden Bellas’ biggest cheerleader and that’s enough.”

“Beca, I’m done!” Amy announced while thrusting the clipboard back at Aubrey and rushing over to loop her arm through Beca’s and pull her away. “I’m sorry to break up your scintillating conversation, but we have things to see and people to do. I’ll see you at auditions.”

“See you later, Beca. And think about it. You could have a lot of oral fun.”

Beca’s mouth fell open as Amy pulled her towards the High Notes table, eager to diversify her options, and gave Chloe a quick wave over her shoulder as she jogged to keep up. Maybe Amy wasn’t the only good thing about this school.

* * *

Beca was freaking out. Strike that. Beca was fucking freaking out, teetering on a panic attack as she stared down at the pop quiz in front of her. Her lackadaisical approach to attending her classes had finally turned around to bite her in the ass and she was screwed. She hadn’t even started to read Anna Karenina and this was a test on chapters three through five. Maybe she could make the answers up? She had always been good at using her imagination.

She started to read through the exam and felt a little relieved when she saw that it was multiple choice. She had a one in four chance of being right on every question which didn’t seem too bad. She would just have to guess correctly on fourteen of the twenty questions to pass.

She was so fucked.

Just as she contemplated getting up and walking out, she felt someone nudge her leg under her desk and turned slightly in her seat to see Chloe Beale sitting behind her. She hadn’t realized that the girl was in her class, but to be honest she hadn’t attended it in the past week. It was just after her eight a.m. class and if she slept through that class there was no way she could be expected to be awake for her 9:30.

To her surprise, Chloe slid her scantron closer to the edge of her desk and angled it in a way that Beca would be able to see her answers in her peripheral vision. Chloe nodded quickly at Beca to let her know that it was okay and the girl pretended to have needed to pull a pencil out of her bag while taking in the first few answers that Chloe had filled out.

She had always been a voracious reader growing up. It had been the one thing she had definitely inherited from her dad and what she bonded with her Uncle Patrick over. He would always check in with her to see what she was reading and what she thought of it. And she’d pretend to be interested when he’d tell her the details of what he was writing because it was just nice to have his attention.

What would he think of her now?

* * *

Beca rushed to catch up with Chloe outside of the building shortly after their class had ended. Chloe had taken off like she was on fire and Beca had shoved her notebooks and pens into her bag without zippering it, holding it shut with a death grip as she jogged to talk to her.

“Chloe!” Beca finally yelled before the girl got too far away from her. She was _so_ out of shape. “Hold up!”

The girl slowed her wheelchair down and made an easy u-turn, moving off to the side of the pathway between the buildings before flicking her brakes down to stop herself from moving. She waited as Beca stopped running and slowed her pace down to an easy walk, giving herself time to catch her breath and zip up her bag. She put an arm through the shoulder strap and flipped it over to rest against her back.

“Hey, why did you help me with the test back there? You could’ve gotten in trouble if the professor saw you.”

Chloe just shrugged and said, “You haven’t been in class a lot recently and, I dunno, I could just tell you were freaking out. I have a weird sense for these things. Besides, it’s not like he was going to say something if he thought he saw me. Who would accuse the girl in the wheelchair unless they were definitely sure? He’d look like a complete asshole.”

“Well, thanks I guess. I haven’t even started to really read the book. It’s way too slow for me.” She smiled at Chloe and added, “I’m not trying out for the Bellas if that’s why you **really** wanted to help me out.”

“That’s more Aubrey’s thing than mine. I told you, that’s all in another life for me.”

Beca just nodded and studied Chloe as a wistful smile slowly spread across her face. She was so pretty. She had the bluest eyes that Beca had ever seen and she couldn’t help but want to be her friend. She had this feeling in her chest that Chloe was someone worth knowing. She wanted to know what she was thinking about that made her smile so sweetly.

“Would you want to-”

“-I just love Russian literature. It’s literally-”

“-sorry. You go first.”

Chloe smiled widely and softly said, “I love Russian literature and I’ve read Anna Karenina like five times. You should really give it a try and I could help you if you want. You’re not really getting your money’s worth if you have to cheat on your quizzes. Especially when it’s only three weeks into the semester.”

The girl winked and Beca blushed, liking the way it felt to be teased by her. She liked the playful rapport that was developing between them. She wanted to think that it was flirting, but there was simply no way. No one would want to flirt with the human equivalent of a rain cloud.

“Thanks, I may have to take you up on that offer. Where were you rushing off to? I was going to grab lunch if you wanted to join me.”

“That sounds great, but I have to go meet a friend over at the radio station. He’s starting to apply for jobs and needs someone to read over his resume. I’ll see you in class on Friday, right?”

“Right, I’ll see you then.”

Chloe smiled and gave her a little wave before unlocking the brakes on her chair and pushing herself towards the small radio station a hundred yards away. Beca sank onto one of the benches that lined that path and tried not to feel like a complete creeper as she watched her quickly make her way over to the building and knock on the glass door. A few moments later a tall, gorgeous guy stepped out of the doorway and greeted her with a big hug, kissing her on the cheek as her face lit up. They talked for a few moments before he leaned in for another kiss and helped her make her way into the building, pushing down on the back of her chair to raise the front wheels over the small step before lifting the back and pushing her in.

So much for Chloe flirting with her. Who had she been kidding? She had nothing on that guy.

* * *

“Beca, I think you should join a club at school. It would be a good opportunity for you to meet new people and it will look great on a resume. And it would be a really nice way for you to make some friends.”

Beca looked up from her sushi and scowled at her father. She knew that agreeing to come over here would be a bad idea. Her dad had tempted her with the promise of homemade sushi, something he used to love making for her and her mom before they divorced, and some spending money. She had not expected another requirement from her parents to meet.

She also needed to check the course listing at school to see if her father taught any freshman seminars. This was _far_ too convenient of a time to bring this up.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Warren.” Fucking hell, Sheila of all people was the voice of reason. Beca was going to need to rethink the step-monster nickname. “Beca’s schedule is so full as it is with six classes and therapy. Don’t you think that an activity might overwhelm her?”

“Yeah dad, I agree with Sheila.”

“You do know that I get attendance reports from your professors, right? It’s pretty obvious three weeks into the school year that you’re not taking this all that seriously. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to join an activity so I at least know that you’re getting some human contact.”

“Jesus Christ, dad! Do you get off on spying on me?”

“Beca, why aren’t you attending class?” Sheila jumped in before Warren could come up with a rebuttal for her. “I know that this is your first semester and you’re still settling into the ebb and flow of school again, but you **need** to actually be in your classes to get anything out of them. If you fail or need to withdraw it’s going to look terrible on your transcripts and affect your GPA. That’s not a good look so early in your college career.”

Beca rolled her eyes and raised a piece of sashimi to her lips, studying it before placing it back onto her plate as her stomach turned. She knew that this conversation was going to inevitably happen at some point, but she wasn’t expecting it tonight. She wished that Amy had been home so she would’ve had an excuse to miss out on dinner, but there was always a party at the Treble house on Saturdays and Amy couldn’t miss an opportunity to ‘plant the seeds of mystery’ with Bumper.

“It’s just overwhelming sometimes trying to keep up with everything. If I don’t sleep well then I can barely function at eight o’clock in the morning. I wish my classes were in the afternoons or evenings so I wouldn’t feel like a zombie during them.”

“College is a preparation for adult life. Regardless of if you’re working as a record producer or a stockbroker, you’re going to need to get up early and your employer won’t accept no for an answer. I’m going to have a word with Dr. McNulty before your next visit about seeing if there’s anything she can do to help you get a sleep schedule in place.” Warren ignored the way that Beca glared at him incredulously and added a little wasabi onto his plate before pouring some soy sauce on top and mixing them together. Cleary this conversation had no room for debate when he had his mind made up. “I’m also going to talk to your RA about making sure that you’re not cooped up in that room all the time. Maybe she’d be able to make sure that you’re up and attending class if she’s awake at that time.”

“Warren, that is going too far now! She is going to be nineteen years old in two weeks. You cannot interfere with her doctor’s appointments and you certainly cannot ask her RA to do something like that. What would the other kids think?”

“They would think that Beca has parents that care enough about her to make sure that she doesn’t mess up her life. And if the RA won’t do it, maybe I should. It’s not like I don’t have access to the buildings on campus.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and slid his key card from one of the slots, placing it onto the table and looking it over carefully. “We’ll have to check if this works on the student buildings when we drop her off.”

“That is absolutely overstepping-”

“-What if I get a job on campus? That would definitely get me out of my room and around other people. Plus, it’ll look great on my resume for when I’m a stockbroker.”

“Like work-study? You have money, Beca. Patrick left that trust for you that you have access to when you turn twenty-five, but we’re able to take some out for school-related expenses when you need it.” He slid the card back into his wallet, mulling over if he really was going too far by inserting himself into her living situation. It was hard to keep himself from intervening when he knew she was messing up. He knew he needed to give her a chance to figure this all out though. “Where would you want to work?”

“At the radio station. You want me to be around people and I want to play music. It’s killing two birds with one stone. Plus, I’ll be getting paid so I won’t need you to give me an allowance like I’m five.”

“That’s not a terrible idea. I think Nick Stevens runs the communications department now. I’ll give him a call later to see if he could get you in. We’re old golf buddies.”

“Beca, are you sure this is something you want to do?” Sheila asked while looking across the table at Beca with a concerned look on her face. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to add one more thing into your schedule just to make us happy. This needs to be manageable for you.”

“No, I’m sure. I think it will be the perfect way for me to make new friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Solo by Frank Ocean
> 
> Next chapter will probably drive the rating up so that's...exciting.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic inspiration playlist is [ here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4694fes15zrC0OEkJNtt2T?si=VAWvW3IhTM2xsuB0wEvqOg).
> 
> I thought this one would never see the light of day, but here we are. I've been heavily influenced by Folklore and Mr. Robot lately so we'll see how it goes.


End file.
